8: Happiest
Clara was at the front of her classroom trying to ignore the alien mopping the floor outside her door. She forced her eyes and her brain to focus on her students, who were listening with more patience and cooperation than usual. She was giving 110% to keep her attention on the assignment she was explaining. But he just looked so utterly ridiculous out there in the corridor, whistling, his 'undercover' orange-y coat flapping beside his knees as he worked. He had sworn there wasn't an invasion this time; he was just here to 'see what humans are up to these days'. For once, Clara was actually trusting him on that. She had made him swear on his Sonic and the TARDIS that he wasn't lying, so she felt pretty sure.
Even so, just him being there was an enormous distraction. The whole day, she knew she could fly off in the box and forget all the young angsty teenagers for a while. Right after she was hit with a poorly thrown paper airplane, she passed right by the maintenance closet where the Doctor was keeping the TARDIS. Needless to say, she showed a lot of self control in that moment.
So now here she stood, glancing out the door every few seconds, struggling to stay on the tracks of her train of thought. Finally, she shook her head and turned to the class, noting from the clock on the side wall that they only had seven minutes left in the day. She could make it for seven minutes.
"So for tomorrow, I want you to brainstorm some ideas for that essay. Write a list of ten things that make you happy and then circle the top three you think you might want to write about."
A boy in the first row raised his hand. "Are we going to have to write three different essays?"
"No, we're going to share them with the class and talk about which ones we should write the paper on."
Two kids groaned. Choruses of "Share them?" and "Why do we always have to share?" erupted instantly. Clara eyed the clock. Five minutes.
"Because sharing helps us be better writers. You can't get better if you don't get some help now and then, eh?"
A few students nodded dejectedly. Others were already stuffing their notebooks into their backpacks, eyeing the clock. Clara couldn't blame them. She backpedalled behind her desk and looked at the clock again. "Let's just relax for a few minutes before the bell rings. You can talk, but don't get too loud. We don't want the other classes feeling left out."
As the students laughed and teased, Clara hurriedly put her things away. As she threw on her sweater, she realized the Doctor was still standing out in the hall, absentmindedly wiping the mop against the shining floor. His eyes were staring blankly at a spot just above him, looking at empty air. Clara raised an eyebrow and went back to fiddling with her purse.
The bell rang and, after the students had all fled the room in a jumble of squeaky trainers and blasting headphones, Clara stood beside her desk and looked over the room. As always, it reminded her slightly of Mars. Mars after the Ice Warriors had been there. Sighing deeply, she left a note of apology for the caretaker, before remembering that he was 'ill' again. Clara closed her eyes. Could she really handle the Doctor right now? She loved him, but she really wanted a cup of tea and a lie down first.
But as soon as she saw his grey head bent over the broom he was swiping across the floor, her mind was made up for her.
"Ready to go, 'Caretaker'?"
He was slow to react, glancing up a moment or two later with eyes that were slightly vacant, staring right through her. His mouth fell open dumbly. "Yeah. Ready."
Clara gave him a raised eyebrow, but shook it off. He was probably tired after a day of 'caretaking', though she swore he never did any actual work on these little 'take your timelord to school' days. Regardless, she slung her purse over her shoulder and shut the door of her classroom, leading the way to the supply closet where the TARDIS was currently residing. The Doctor hung back a few steps the whole time, leaning the broom against a random wall at some point in their journey. When they finally did reach the TARDIS, the Doctor seemed to finally perk up, unlocking the door and swapping his orange jacket for his black velvet one almost instantly. He was at the Console holding onto the controls before Clara had even stashed her purse away in one of the TARDIS' lockers.
When they met eyes, his wandered around her face for a while, hands still sitting loosely on the levers and buttons. "You look like you need a rest."
Clara smirked. "Doctor, we talked about this. You can't just tell people bad things about their appearance-it's not polite!"
He blinked rapidly, dropping his hands to his sides. "No, no, I mean...I'm concerned. Because you look sleepy. Do you need to, I don't know, cat-nap? Do humans cat-nap? There are some humans who are part cat, so it's very possible-"
"I'm fine."
Clara had realized long ago that when the Doctor got started, he could go on for hours. Still, she felt a little guilty as his expression turned from mild curiosity to dejection. To soften the blow, she quietly added, "But maybe I should just go rest for a bit while you fly. Long day."
They shared a quick smile before the human disappeared down one of the TARDIS' long corridors, yawning when she was out of the Doctor's sight. How could he always see right through her? More importantly, why didn't she ever want him to see right through her?
The questions danced around Clara's exhausted mind as she walked the familiar path toward her private quarters, a quaint little suite decked with just a bed, closet, toilet, and reading nook. She smiled as she remembered afternoons past spent tucked in the corner armchair reading Jane Austen after particularly rough TARDIS trips. On those days, the Doctor would always surprise her with a steaming cup of tea and a gentle hand on her shoulder. Even if hugging was still reserved for special occasions, he'd been altogether more affectionate with her since their departure at the cafe all those months ago. Clara couldn't tell if it were because of her tragedy with Danny or his own with Gallifrey. Either way, though, she appreciated the more sentimental compassionate Doctor. She had found in recent years that there could never be too much kindness or love in the world. The opposites of those two things were already far too present.
Clara breathed in the smell of her bookshelf and flopped down onto her bed, where her eyes closed automatically. She was much more tired than she had even known herself, and soon she had drifted off, dreaming of travelling through the Time Vortex in a big yellow school bus instead of a TARDIS. She smiled in her sleep at the thought, though it seemed all too familiar.
When she had found her way back to the Console Room, it was empty. She scratched her bed-headed hair, blinking her sleep-laden eyes slowly as she gazed around the space. "Doctor?"
"Coming."
The voice came from beneath the deck. Clara followed it down the steps and found the Doctor sat at the messy desk on the other side of the TARDIS' mainframe, scribbling away at something. As she stepped forward though, his hand covered most of the paper. The teacher was not impressed.
"What are you working on?"
"It's nothing. Boring Timelord stuff. Why don't you go pick some coordinates?"
He was speaking quickly, with much less confidence than his usual tone usually suggested. Clara smirked. "Come on, you can show me. When have I ever judged you?"
He eyed her suspiciously. She chuckled.
"Okay, other than calling you old or daft a few times. But those are terms of endearment, you know that!"
He jerked at her words, turning away. His cheeks flashed pink for a second and he gripped the paper in his hands tighter before sighing and loosening his hold. Clara easily procured it from his bony fingers. He folded his empty hands together awkwardly.
"'Ten Things that Make Me Happy'."
Clara's jaw dropped into a wide smile. She started to say something, but thought the better of it. Instead, she went with a more humorous approach. "You did this faster than any of my students probably did."
Her eyes scanned the page. "10: My Sonic Screwdriver. No surprise there. 9: Tea; are you sure you're not actually British? 8: Learning new things. 7: Gallifrey."
Clara cast him an anxious glance. He turned to the floor sullenly, his face still deepening in color. "6: Earth. 5: Stopping Daleks. 4: Saving/helping people. 3: Travelling. 2: My TARDIS. 1: My Clara-"
Her voice faded out as her big eyes turned to him. His face was properly scarlet now, his eyes boring into the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the universe. When he finally looked up, Clara had tears pricking the edges of her eyes. She cleared her throat and blinked them away quickly, looking to the paper again. "So...which three might you write an essay about?"
The Doctor took the paper from her and looked it over. After mulling over it for a minute, he began circling his three options. "I can definitely write about stopping Daleks. There are a lot of stories there. And the TARDIS is literally infinite, and the mathematical principles can easily take up two hundred pages, so that would be pretty simple. And my third choice would be…"
He circled a third option and handed her the page. Her name was circled. She smiled. "What would you write about me? I hope I'm nothing like the Daleks you're stopping. And I'm not exactly infinite."
"Of course you're infinite. Every time I think I know you, you end up surprising me. Usually by jumping into an abyss or running into the middle of a battle. I can't say I'm glad that you do those things, but...it's part of what makes you so...human."
They shared a moment of silence, then Clara eyed him curiously. "Did you put that list in order?"
The Doctor smiled shyly. "You make me happiest, if that's what you're wondering."
"What, more than the TARDIS and the adventuring? Even stopping Daleks?"
The Doctor cocked his head, giving her his warmest eyes. "Yes."
Clara held the piece of paper out in front of her for him to take. "Ditto, daft old man."